The Two Orders
by CCyan
Summary: What if there were two orders guarding the Wall, not one? The story of a great war at the end of the world. POVs in the fic: (list may expand) Ser Franklyn Costayne, Ser Rickard Celtigar, Harwin Flint, Jasper Snow, Torygg the Blackheart (Note, Robert's Rebellion never happened. Aerys II didn't go insane)
1. Franklyn I

_In 275 AC, Ser Rodrik Staunton, fourthborn son of the Lord of Rook's Rest rode north with the intention of joining the Night's Watch. When he saw how far the Night's Watch had fallen, when he gazed upon the thieves, the rapers, the murderers there, he left in disgust. He returned to the Wall a year later, with a hundred men at his back and three large chests of gold. He did not go to Castle Black, but to Greyguard. There he founded his own order, the Brotherhood of the Wall, sworn to defend the realms of men. Where the Night's Watch wore black, they wore grey. Where the Night's Watch accepted criminals, they accepted only those who came of their own accord. The Brotherhood swelled rapidly in size as knights and common men alike travelled north in droves. Within three years they numbered three thousand men and occupied two of the fortresses along the Wall that the Night's Watch had abandoned. Within six years, they numbered near seven thousand men and occupied five. Now, nine years later, they number nine thousand and occupy the fortresses of Sentinel Stand, Greyguard, Stonedoor, Hoarfrost Hill, Icemark and most recently, the Nightfort. The seizure of the Nightfort was but the last in a series of what the Night's Watch considered to be insults and provocations. Now, war is brewing on the Wall. War between two orders sworn to defend the realms of men. _

**Greyguard, the Wall, the North, 284 AC**

The Black Brothers of the Night's Watch approached Greyguard on the Black Road. There were six of them, with the First Ranger at their head.  
The men of the Brotherhood of the Wall watched them come from their places atop the towers of the fortress. They knew why the Night's Watch had come.  
The master-at-arms of Greyguard, Ser Damon Crane, sheathed the sword with which he had been drilling his newest batch of recruits. The Lord Steward, Steffon Whitehill wiped his Myrish lens nervously on his grey cloak. Ser Franklyn Costayne's hand closed around the hilt of his sword. He was one of the most recent additions to the Brotherhood, having 'taken the grey' only a moon's turn ago.  
No sooner had the Black Brothers entered the yard than they were beset on all sides by the Grey. Steel drawn, the Brothers of the Wall watched them with suspicion and warning in their eyes. The First Ranger and his men dismounted and drew their own blades. Harwin Flint looked to the master-at-arms.  
"Is this how you treat your guests, Crane!?" he snarled.  
"I gave no command, Flint. My brothers drew their steel of their own accord" said Ser Damon.  
"And they shall die of their own accord as well! Lest they sheathe it!" replied the First Ranger.  
"_**Will they!?**_"  
The voice of Ser Denys Templeton boomed through the air. The Commander of Greyguard stepped out of the tallest of the towers onto the frozen ground. He wore a shirt of polished mail beneath a shining steel breastplate and a grey cloak lined with grey fur. His head was completely hairless but for a bushy white beard, and upon his bald crown rested a grey half helm. His sword was still sheathed.  
"Your Lord Commander sent you here to demand our fealty, didn't he, Flint?!" said Ser Denys.  
"It is only right!" said Flint, "We are the senior order on the Wall! We have defended it since Brandon the Builder…"  
He was interrupted by Ser Damon.  
"And now you have fallen far. What was once a proud order, is now a safe haven for poachers, rapers, thieves and worse!"  
"My master-at-arms speaks true, First Ranger!" said Ser Denys, "Run back to Castle Black, and tell Lord Commander Qorgyle that all he'll have from us, is what the wildlings get. Steel!"  
"Is that so, Ser Denys?!" called one of the men who accompanied the First Ranger.  
"What would the Commander of Sentinel Stand have to say on this matter?"  
"Ser Marwyn will give you the same answer I did. The same answer Ser Parmen Crakehall gave before me, and Ser Rickard Celtigar of Icemark before him. I find it strange that you did not call upon the Nightfort on your trek here, and gave your 'offer' to the Lord Brother himself" said Ser Denys with a savage smile. There was hesitation in Harwin Flint's eyes, where moments before there had been only fury.  
"That is your… final answer, then?" he said.  
"Aye, and you better head back east from here. You'll find nothing at Sentinel Stand but naked steel and death, Ser Marwyn is not as patient a man as me" said Ser Denys. 


	2. Rickard I

**Icemark, the Wall, the North, 284 AC**

Ser Rickard Celtigar watched the rangers from the topmost chamber of the Snow Tower. His callused hands rested on the granite windowsill, tapping it nervously.  
_Come on, Flint_ he thought, _come on. Ride into the yard as you did two days ago. Bare your steel against me again, I dare you._  
"Commander," said Haldon of Blue Bend behind him tentatively.  
"Yes?" barked Rickard.  
"Ser Timeon asks to be given leave to ride out with a party of horsemen, to take Harwin Flint and his men in the rear"  
"He does not have it. We will not move from this position, Haldon, until the Lord Brother gives the command"  
"Commander, Ser Timeon insists…"  
"Ser Timeon Sarsfield can take _himself _in the rear with that bloody longsword of his, he will not leave"  
Haldon nodded solemnly and went off to inform Ser Timeon of his decision.  
Rickard knew that sooner or later, Timeon Sarsfield would have his wish granted. There had already been too much tension between the Brotherhood and the Night's Watch before the Lord Brother had seized the Nightfort, but now… now Lord Commander Qorgyle was sending parties of rangers to the Brotherhood's fortresses, demanding their fealty, as if they were unruly vassals and he a great lord. Rickard Celtigar had known many great lords, served great lords, killed great lords.  
_Perhaps I'll kill Aron Qorgyle as well_. Rickard had spent seven years on the Wall; having taken the grey two years after the Brotherhood was founded. He'd been nine-and-thirty then, fresh out of the Crackclaw War. He smiled as he reminisced about slaying Crabbs and Brunes and Boggs and Hardys. Even then he didn't quite know what the war was about, now he was even less sure. He remembered the battles though. He remembered the Battle at the Whispers, recalled forming a line on a marshy hill, side-by-side with Stauntons, Velaryons and Bywaters. He remembered Ser Daven Byrch, looking at him, smiling with anticipation. Ser Daven had died at the Whispers, slain by a well-placed quarrel from a Hardy man during the first charge.  
Rickard remembered marching through bogs and marshes, slogging through blood and mud to get at that one knight. That one knight with a stonechat on his shield. He remembered killing that one knight, he remembered smashing that shield to pieces, and planting his sword in the knight's armpit.  
He was woken from his reverie by Ser Timeon Sarsfield. The westerman was tall and imposing, with hair the color of amber and eyes like chips of obsidian. He wore mail and boiled leather, and a grey cloak lined with wolf's fur. On his belt he wore a dagger and a longsword. Lifestealer that blade was called, and it was a blade from the great Freehold of Valyria. Sarsfield hadn't drawn Lifestealer now, for which Rickard was thankful.  
"Yes, Ser Timeon?" he asked wearily, his hand still tapping the windowsill.  
"You would let him go? After the stunt he pulled here two days ago? He entered the yard with bared steel, and spat in your face. Are you so weak that you would let him get away with that?"  
"You call me weak?" said Rickard, his hand travelling to the hilt of his sword.  
"Aye, I do. We received a rider from Greyguard. When that bastard entered the fortress, he was met with drawn swords, and a warning from Ser Denys. Templeton sent him off with his tail between his legs and he didn't even go to Sentinel Stand. And here you are, letting Harwin Flint ride back to Castle Black. You are weak"  
Rickard did not have to take such filth from the likes of Timeon Sarsfield. He was a seasoned commander of men, veteran of the Crackclaw War, slayer of the Stonechat-Knight, a Celtigar of Claw Isle.  
"Leave me!" he barked angrily. Ser Timeon smiled sourly and left. The Black Brothers were nothing but a black dot at the end of the Black Road now. Maester Donnel rushed into the chamber, his chain clinking and clanking.  
"Commander," he panted "you are summoned to the Nightfort. The Lord Brother, he has summoned all the commanders"  
The Maester handed him a raven's scroll.  
Ser Rickard Celtigar smiled a tired but hungry smile.  
_There is to be a war then. Now Ser Timeon Sarsfield will see how weak I am_.


	3. Jasper I

**The Haunted Forest, Beyond the Wall, the North, 284 AC**

A dead man moved through the woods. There was fear and urgency plastered over his ugly, bearded face. He moved about the clearing, gathering sticks and twigs from the ground.  
"He shouldn't be here," whispered Rosy Tom.  
"To close to the Wall by half," agreed Jasper Snow.  
"Well, go on then! Feather him!"  
The Bastard of Karhold smiled the smile that came so easy to his lips and unslung his bow. There was a low hiss as the arrow tore through the air and lodged itself in the wilding's throat. He lived long enough to throw a wild-eyed glance at the spot where arrow had come from and for blood to come oozing out of his mouth.  
Jasper smiled again and ventured into the clearing to see if they could find anything of use. They did not. Turning back, the black brothers headed towards the two horses they'd tied to trees a third of a mile from the clearing. Jasper mounted his old mare and patted her gently on the rump. She was a trusty steed.  
"Come on, Shrike" he said encouragingly and kicked the mare into a trot. Rosy Tom followed close behind on his piebald gelding. They exited the woods to the sight of the icy eminence of the Wall. They'd been sent out to hunt the day before, Jasper and Rosy Tom. Jasper was a ranger, Tom a steward, but everyone knew that it would be Jasper doing the feathering. However it was over the gelding's back the deer carcass was slung, quivering limply as the horses trotted back home.  
Jasper smiled once more as he remembered hearing a shout from within the woods. He and Rosy Tom had followed the noise on foot and found the clearing and the wilding.  
_I wonder why he was alone_… the Bastard thought to himself. He was from his thoughts by the blaring tones of a great horn.  
"One blast for rangers returning!" Jasper shouted happily to Rosy Tom.  
"_Ranger_," corrected the steward, but still he smiled. The gateway to Castle Black stood open when they neared. When they were through to the other side, Jasper was greeted by two familiar faces. Medger Locke was short and stocky, with arms and legs like small trees. Pate of Dosk was tall and lanky, but quick as a demon and the best sword at Castle Black.  
"What'd you feather for us today, Jasper!?" called Medger through his beard.  
"A deer. And a wilding!" Jasper called back as he slid down from Shrike's saddle.  
"Just the one?" asked Pate.  
"Aye, we found him alone in a forest clearing; I stuck an arrow in his throat. He was too close to the Wall"  
Medger nodded and leaned in close.  
"Flint's returned" he said.  
"Without the fealty of the Grey Brothers, I assume?" said Jasper.  
"Aye," said Locke "the Lord Commander chose wrong, sending him. Too quick to anger, too loving of his sword that one. Should've sent Ser Cletus or Ser Bryce or… or…"  
"Or you" Pate finished for him.  
"Me?" said Jasper through his smile.  
"Aye, you. You're the son of a great lord…"  
"A _bastard_ son," corrected Jasper, still smiling.  
"But a son all the same. You have a silky tongue as well and an easy smile. You're very suited to treat with the likes of Rickard Celtigar or Parmen Crakehall" finished Pate.  
"Perhaps, dear Pate. But what's done is done. Qorgyle sent Harwin Flint and not me, and now he's come back. Now, let's see about skinning this deer"


End file.
